


awake me, i break

by mjparkers



Series: broken [1]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Prequel, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 04:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18308174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjparkers/pseuds/mjparkers
Summary: In the moment he just needed to feel something other than the deep sadness his nightmare had given him. Seeing the light slowly leave her eyes, her body turning cold in his arms frightened him. He needed to feel her alive and wanting; her warmth,her breathing. He needed her.





	awake me, i break

**Author's Note:**

> ello again, I decided I wanted more smut so I wrote like a prequel to my previous fic. you might have to read it to understand this one, there were some things mentioned in there that are a bit important but you might not have to read it.
> 
> just know that peter and mj are around 22 or 23, they go to college but they are visiting their homes in queens yeeee. also gwen stacy.
> 
> one thing you need to know about me...im an angst whore :/
> 
> listen to [vantablack by novo amor and ed tullet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=53NLbM9QdbM) while you read...if you want to...

Darkness.

 

Darkness was the only thing surrounding him. Peter didn’t know where to go or what to see. Suddenly, a high pitched scream vibrates through the air.

 

_He’s heard that scream before._

 

_A scream that haunts his memories._

 

_A scream that still haunts his dreams._

 

_Gwen._

 

“Gwen!” Peter desperately calls out into the pitch-black air.

 

“ _Peter! Help me please._ ” Gwen says in incomprehensible sobs.

 

Peter runs in the direction of her loud cries, hoping beyond hope that he’ll get to her in time. He runs through the darkness.

 

After what felt like hours of running, he struggles for breath; and _nothing_ , not even a small glimpse of light appears. He stops his pacing, breathing heavily—

 

“You’re too late.”

 

The voice so close to him. Peter snaps his head to look behind him. Standing there, the side of her head bloodied and bruised, was Gwen. Suddenly her eyes roll to the back of her head and she falls towards him. Quickly he grabs a hold of her.

 

“Gwen,” Peter looks down at her limped body, and tries to hold back his choked sob. “Please, no.”

 

Lying in his arms, body turning cold and lifeless in rapid time, he delicately shakes her. His hand flying to caress her cheek.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Peter weeps above her. His broken whimpers and sniffs can be heard through the blackness.

 

“Peter,” more voices call to him, but this time he doesn’t quickly look. Instead he cries harder, bending down, slowly shaking his head, and hoping this nightmare will end.

 

“Peter. Peter. Peter.”

 

Different voices are heard all around him. He knows them all. _He can never forget their screams._

 

It’s of all the people trapped in an apartment building he had lost in the fire two days ago. The young girl two years ago, who fell out a building; _he couldn’t get to her in time_. Or the old man who had a heart attack in the middle of a bank robbery he tried to stop.

It’s the voices of Tony Stark and Uncle Ben.

 

Of all the people who died, their deaths he blamed himself for.

 

_It’s all your fault._

 

And Peter just... _cries_.

 

_Peter. Peter. Peter._

 

“Peter.”

 

Peter stops completely, his breathing still unsteady. Slowly he lifts up his head to the direction of _her_ voice. Standing there above him is Michelle Jones. _His_ _best friend_. _His_ _companion in everything_.

 

_Someone he can never let go of._

 

“Em…”, he whispers.

 

“Tell me what happened. Tell me what happened that day.”

 

Peter trembles in wariness, he cries again, his tears streaming down his cheeks meeting under his chin, eyes red-rimmed. “I can’t tell you.”

 

“Why not?” She begs.

 

“I—it was—,” he chokes. “It was all my fault.” He pauses for a while. Then finally—

 

“They told me they had...someone I love and I thought—I thought they had you.” His voice cracks at the last word of his sentence. He freezes then.

 

He whispers finally, “I couldn’t reach her in time.”

“She’s dead because of you.” She stops, “This all could have been avoided, Peter.”

 

He nods his head and breathes out, “I know.”

 

If he told Gwen the truth. If he told MJ the truth. If he wasn’t so clueless with his feelings.

 

_This all could have been avoided._

 

Silence is the only thing between them, just the broken sobs Peter tries to choke back.

 

Then the body he held, slowly disintegrates to ashes. Peter just looks down in defeat. His eyes hollow.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into the air.

 

Then everything happens so fast. A gunshot. A choked gasp. He looks back up at MJ in shock, her hand goes over her abdomen. Blood seeps through her white shirt. MJ looks back up at Peter, her palm coming into view, _bloodied_.

 

“MJ,” Peter exhales her name. He watches as her body starts to slowly falter. Before she could collide with the floor he stands to grab a hold of her, easing her down. He holds her in his arms.

 

“ _Not you, okay?_ ”, Peter cries, “just... _not you_.”

 

His sobs are uncontrollable as he rocks her back and forth. Blood comes out the side of her mouth. Her eyes move away from his as she chokes on her own blood.

 

“Hey, no look at me. Look at me.” He says to her as his hand goes to her cheek, forcing her eyes on him. “You’re gonna be fine. I—I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to you, please.”

 

She convulses in his arms and he sobs even harder, _if that’s possible_.

 

“I love you. I do. I do. I do. I—I love you and I—I promise I’ll do everything I can to protect you. Okay? Just _please_ don’t leave me.” Peter chokes and cries through his admission.

 

He watches as her eyes slowly turn vacant, empty, her body going limp in his arms; _dead._

 

He holds her lifeless body and cries out. Alone, howling in the darkness, his head falls down to hers as he rocks her whole body.

 

He cries, he wails, and trembles, “ _No_ , _nonono_ , _MJ._ ”

 

“Peter...Peter... _Peter!”_

 

More screams of pain and sadness from the voices, still surrounding him. He wants to beg for it to stop, but he knows it won’t end, _it’ll never end_.

 

_“PETER!”_

 

He jumps up, struggling for air, his hands tighten his sheets as he shoots up, he loudly heaves and sobs in his old dark bedroom. Tears streaming down his face.

 

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s just me.” MJ stands above his bed, her forehead furrowed in worry. Warily she tries to sit on the side of his bed, “I’m going to touch you now if that’s okay?”

 

He nods his head, unable to breathe, sweat dripping down his forehead. She gently caresses him on his cheek, her thumb wiping away the tears that lie there. He exhales. She stares at him worriedly, but her other hand goes to caress the other side of his face.

 

“I’m here Peter. It’s okay.”

 

“MJ,” Peter finally chokes out, “I seen you and you—.” He stops what he’s saying instantly.

 

“Talk to me.” She breathes out quietly.

 

He pauses, swallows down the dryness in his throat, he looks up at her. Then suddenly removes his face from her hands, his legs go over the other side of the bed she isn’t on; the blankets already on the floor.

 

_He doesn’t want to talk about it. She can’t know what happened that day._

 

_He doesn’t want her to carry his_ guilt _. His_ burden _._

 

His memories of the day come back to him. MJ was there for their traditional movie night and May had left the apartment for a whole two weeks vacation with Happy.

 

They had fallen asleep on the movie, so they decided to move to the bedroom, MJ took the top bunk and Peter had taken the bottom.

 

He takes a deep breath.

 

When he stands to leave the room, she tries to follow. Crossing the room to get to him.

 

“Don’t follow me.” He rasps.

 

She frowns at him. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

 

“Damnit, MJ. I just want to be alone!”

 

_Please._

 

“Peter you had a nightmare...most likely a night terror. I’m trying to help you. You have to talk about it. Or at least let me be there for you.”

 

“I don’t need you to be here for me!” He stops and looks back at her. Anger in eyes, anger he’s never pointed at her before. “And I don’t want to talk about it.” He grits out then turns back to walk towards the door.

 

MJ’s face creases in annoyance, “Peter—”, she reaches for him, when her hand grabs a hold of his arm to turn him around towards her; he pivots back to her, and interrupts her with a hard kiss; his tongue requesting entrance to her mouth immediately. She groans onto his lips in shock.

 

In one second she kisses him back, surrendering. She accepts his tongue enthusiastically opening her mouth to him; tasting his salty tears.

 

_He’s all of sudden reminded of her vacant eyes; slowly turning cold, lifeless face._

 

He didn’t expect to kiss her, but now he couldn’t stop. He wants her.

 

_He wants this. He needs this._

 

Groaning, his tongue licks inside touching the roof of her mouth. Their kiss is slow but powerful, and _rough_. Teeth clashing together, tongues sliding against each other.

 

It all happens quickly.

 

They fall together on his small twin-sized bed. MJ’s head hitting the pillow, Peter’s body draped on top of hers. His bunk bed a bit small in size for them but they make it work.

 

Peter breaks the kiss to reach for her shirt, taking it off vehemently. MJ’s arms lifts up to accommodate him. Her long curly hair falling over her naked shoulders.

 

MJ’s bra already gone; he doesn’t hesitate to kiss down towards her perfect breasts. He grabs for her right tit, sucking on the hard nipple. MJ groans out loud in the moonlit room. He bites hard on the tip and she screams; her hand flying into his hair.

 

“Shit, Peter”, she breathes out heavily to him.

 

He licks to sooth her breast. His other hand goes to her left breast, his thumb grazing the nipple. Peter’s mouth moves down her stomach, he nips and sucks as he seeks his destination.

 

He hears MJ moaning his name above him.

 

“ _Peter_.”

 

_It was all your fault._

 

_She’s dead because of you._

 

_I’m sorry._

 

His dream repeats in his head over and over again.

 

His hands reach his boxers that she had put on to sleep with; sliding them down her legs hastily. Gazing over at her, he sees a dark, lustful look in her eyes; not breaking eye contact he leans down to the apex between her thighs. Peter gives a small kiss to her opening, then a slight graze with his tongue at her clit.

 

“Fuck,” MJ whispers.

 

Peter sucks stiffly at her clitoris; making her head fall back against the pillow. MJ’s hand flying into his hair. She thrusts up to his face. His arms briskly wrap around her hips; holding her steady but pulling her to his eager mouth; each thigh draped on his shoulders. His hands go to squeeze her thighs, sliding them smoothly up and down. His mouth still sucking hard on her swollen clit; then moving down to her opening easing his tongue in.

 

MJ gasps in the air; her hand seeks purchase on the railing of the headboard behind her. Peter eases his tongue in and out, in and out; takes his left hand off her waist to glide his long middle finger in her opening; knuckle deep, while he goes back to sucking, licking and nibbling on her clit; his other hand still holding her in place. Peter’s tongue swirls around. He eases a second finger in her, plunges them in and out _fast._ His pace rough and rapid. Her breathy moans following in time to the pace of his digits.

 

Peter’s fingers arch inside her, hitting a spot that makes her toes curl. She mewls out his name. His dream comes back to him again.

 

_This all could have been avoided._

 

_You killed Gwen._

 

_You’ll kill MJ_ _too._

It was all his fault. He did kill Gwen, all because he couldn’t accept that he loves another; the woman who is withering underneath him in pleasure right now but he can’t help but think, _you don’t deserve her_. He’s lost _so many_. He could get _her_ killed. He’d hurt her. ( _You already did_ ) _._

 

He’s too... _broken._

 

Peter stops completely. Quickly removing his fingers and tongue away from her sex; MJ keens and snaps her eyes to him in vexation.

 

“What the hell?”

 

He doesn’t answer her, instead he reaches over his head to take off his shirt, then forcefully pulls down his boxers. She watches him quietly. Falling back on her; he kisses her savagely again; giving her a taste of her own wetness. They groan against each other as he reaches down to his pulsating flesh and aligns it to her opening. Peter pushes into her with a violent snap of his hips. MJ cries out in surprise.

 

Vigorously, he thrusts in and out of her; he grabs a hold of her left leg and lifts it up over his shoulder. The change in angle making him delve deeper inside her aching sex. She screams out from the intensity of it all. Her right hand; that was holding the bar of the headboard slaps to his back; her nails bite into his skin leaving furrows down his back to his ass. He groans out loud, his hand taking a hold of the headboard now, squeezing it; his thrusts become more powerful as he uses the momentum of the rail to ram her into the mattress. MJ moans out loud, her hold on him tightening.

 

He hears the bed scraping the floor; the mattress squeaking; headboard slamming into the wall; all in time with their thrusts. MJ’s moans turning into broken sobs. The heel of her right foot pressing into the bed, knee pointed high up and her right hand squeezing his ass cheek; pulling him in even deeper into her wetness. He goes deeper into her, plunges harder, her body spasms and shakes, tears form in her eyes from the pressure. The whole thing raw and _euphoric_. Peter letting this dark, intense lust fill him; he sets a brutal speed.

 

_You don’t deserve her._

 

Looking down at her whimpering underneath him; her hair wild all over his _Star Wars_ pillow case ( _it’s going to smell like her lavender shampoo and he thinks he’ll never wash it again_ ), lips bruised, face scrunched up in pleasure. He knows he loves her, but he _also_ knows she could never be his.

 

His hand leaves the bar; turning his face towards his right shoulder where her leg is being held; he slows his movements by rocking into her evenly; and kisses her ankle. She whines as he swiftly puts her leg back down and leans down to her lips, his pelvis moving in a slow, intense pace. Their breaths mingle together. MJ gazes up at him with shiny, half-hooded eyes. He tastes her soft gasps on his tongue.

 

Her eyes still on his, she slowly lifts her hand to caress his cheek but he quickly looks away from her and hides his face in the crook of her neck, biting her there; groaning his pleasure in her ear.

 

Neither one speaks but they both pick up the pace again.

 

MJ’s legs lift up to his sides, her ankles cross around his lower back, letting him fit into her like a puzzle piece; one of her hands latches onto his long brown hair, while the other goes back to the bar behind her head. Her mouth opening up to a silent scream. He pistons in and out of her _faster and faster._ She flails; the hand holding the bar slaps his shoulder, nails digging into his skin.

 

“ _Yes, yes, yes..._ ” MJ sobs breathlessly into his neck. Breathless sobs turning into small squeaks. “ _Harder, harder, harder…_ ”

 

He clutches the pillow and gives her solid punishing thrusts. The bunk bed shakes violently.

 

Peter’s hand goes to her stiff clit; rubbing it forcefully to get her to her peak. His mouth goes towards her right tit; biting and sucking it.

 

MJ holds on to his shoulders tight, as he takes her to oblivion. His mouth going back to her neck again.

 

With a firm thrust she spasms violently around his dick, eyes roll to the back of her head. MJ clung to him with all her might, keening in between his neck and shoulder. His embrace strong.

 

Suddenly her body stills underneath him as she surrenders herself to pleasure. He joins her with one final snap of his hips, coming inside her; both shouting out their releases in the dark.

 

Peter’s slacked body falls on top of MJ’s; crushing off her circulation. His dick softening inside her.

 

Both breathe heavily, their bodies drenched in sweat. His ear presses against her heart; hearing its rapid thumping. Neither one moves, but realizing how heavy he might be on her, he slowly lifts himself off. MJ twitches as he removes his softened member from her. He faces the back of the top bunk bed.

 

Silence surrounds the room, the only sound is their labored breathing. He doesn’t know what to say or if he should say anything at all. He doesn’t blame her if she wants to yell at him, ask him what his problem was.

 

_He had sex with Michelle Jones. MJ. His MJ._

 

A friend. Not just any friend but one of his _best friends._

 

Maybe she was just trying to comfort him. This probably meant nothing.

 

_It_ _meant everything._

 

In the moment he just needed to feel something other than the deep sadness his nightmare had given him. Seeing the light slowly leave her eyes, her body turning cold in his arms frightened him. He needed to feel her alive and wanting; her warmth, _her breathing_. He needed her.

 

_And just like that...he feels_ ashamed _._

 

_He should say something._

 

_What he says surprises him and also makes him hate himself more_ ; _makes him wish that he stayed dead all those years ago when Thanos snapped half the universe_ …

 

“Thank you.”

 

He cringes.

 

_Did he just say…_

 

_Thank you?_

 

He can’t look at her, _he can’t_.

 

MJ doesn’t say anything for a while, which makes him feel even _worse_.

 

After what feels like a lifetime, she clears her scratchy throat, “You’re welcome.”

 

_Nice one, Parker._

* * *

              

She was hoping he would say something to her; tell her about his nightmare maybe; to try and figure out what was wrong but he didn’t want to explain and throughout their... _encounter_ , he said nothing at all. Afterwards, she expected awkward tension.

 

And that’s exactly what she got; and she wishes _he hadn’t said anything_. The atmosphere turns tense fast.

 

_Who says “thank you” after sex?_

 

_I could see if you’re one of those selfish assholes who only needed a quick fuck on a lonely night. Those guys she gets..._ but from Peter? _She didn’t expect._

 

Maybe she should just ask him? MJ knows Peter struggles with PTSD. He’s told her before; maybe talking about it would help this weird air between them.

 

Clearing her throat again, she speaks, “Peter?”

 

A pause, “Yeah?”

 

“If you ever say thank you to me after sex again. I’ll break your hand.” She ( _and him_ ) ignore the fact that she implied a next time.

 

Peter snickers. “I’m sorry. I—I don’t know what to say.” He pauses. “You’re okay right? I didn’t hurt you or anything?”

 

Chuckling slightly, “No Peter, you didn’t hurt me.”

 

Silence.

 

“Do you—do you want to talk ab—”

 

“No.” He says abrupt and harsh; like it’s final. Realizing what he said and how he said it he quickly apologizes, _again_. “I’m sorry. I’m—”

 

“Leave it, Parker. It’s fine...well, it’s not _fine,_ but I’m not hurt.”

 

_It hurt._

 

**Author's Note:**

> feedback much appreciated! thank you!


End file.
